


The Talk

by Calesvol



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 13:26:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14136954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calesvol/pseuds/Calesvol
Summary: Noctis is sometimes oblivious at the best of times, so Ravus tries to talk some sense into his head. How effective it is is debatable. (Fill forthis requeston the FFXV kinkmeme.)





	The Talk

(Warnings: G, some sexual allusions)

* * *

 

Sometimes, it still felt as though he’d never left public school. Almost two years to the day, and hungry eyes never seemed to leave his back. Whether he traipsed through the halls of the Citadel and its council chambers to occasionally attend meetings, to the nights out on the town with Nyx and some of the other glaives after combat practice, it still felt as though eyes never left his person. Even if not a lot of people even knew who he was.

 

Why did they stare anyways? Gladio had taken a crack at it after sparring one day, saying it was probably because of his hair. Since it made him look like he was part of some emo boy band or something. Even if Insomnia was replete with them, he’d never really equated himself to looking like one of them.

 

Prompto said maybe it was because of his gait. After his accident, Noctis hadn’t walked right since. There was a pronounced unevenness to his stride, unconsciously favoring his left leg even when those months of physical therapy in Tenebrae and even after had returned him to almost normalcy. Though, he knew his best friend meant well. Seeing as Prompto had been overweight as a kid, he was used to people seeing him as a perceived defect and not as a person.

 

Asking Ignis didn’t yield much else. As he helped Noctis with his tie and straightening the hem of his blazer, his only suggestion was likely his fashion. While not everyone knew he was prince, the Lucian royal family was known for wearing black. Even if Insomnia wasn’t known for its loud fashions unlike those in Lucis proper, it was the mark of royalty. And Noctis wore almost exclusively black, down to his everyday wear. A sensible suggestion, but it still didn’t sit right with him.

 

He didn’t have time to goad for further opinion until he was ferried into the garage level of the Citadel and brought to the Star of Lucis where he’d be riding with Ignis to Via Caelum for another diplomatic sortie following recess from the day’s deliberation with important Niflheim figures, the conflict ever being about Galahd. Something that drifted unease in his gut after hearing firsthand accounts of the atrocities committed over a decade ago. Libertus, Nyx, and Luche especially had plenty of words to say on the matter.

 

Though the venue itself was an attractive, sleek and dark location, Noctis himself had no volition to go and mingle among the guests as a prince was supposed to be wont to do. The enormous aquamarine tank at their back filled with enormous fish proved enough of a distraction; that and King’s Knight which Prompto had promised to be on stand-by on their gaming server should he grow bored. Which he’d retreated into doing over a glass of champagne.

 

“An illustrious image of princeliness as always, I see.”

 

Noctis barely flicked his eyes up before he realized who it was, seeing Ravus himself in a black suit with white dress shirt and violet-bordering-black tie—a simple nod to Tenebrae. He stood tall and imperiously, imposing even without the blinding white of the Commander’s usual attire.

 

“You need something, Ravus, or are the rest of your people too boring to really talk to?” Noctis scoffed almost immediately, knowing any conversation with the older man would lead immediately into sour and derisive territory. Not really what he felt like engaging in at all.

 

“You should know perfectly well that your decorum is absolutely atrocious. A prince should engage his people, not hang back like some juvenile delinquent and disregard everything around him,” Ravus said pointedly, ash gray gaze sizing the younger up like a predator did prey.

 

A withering, hard stare met that. “I thought you were supposed to enjoy watching me crash and burn. Why help me?” Noctis replied blandly, the edge from him hardly softening. Like some cat bristling, he felt more like the predator here than Ravus did. At least in his own mind. Leaning back in his seat, he crossed his leg at the ankle over his lap, propping both his arms on the arm rests and canting his head cockily and expectantly. This wasn’t the look of some little boy waiting to be bullied in the schoolyard. No, this was a patient jungle cat waiting to strike.

 

Without invitation did Ravus quirk a brow and pull out the seat opposite Noctis and sat himself down without asking. Noctis’ gaze bored into him unflinchingly, as if daring him to make one wrong move. Just to make a point, he summoned a butterfly knife from his Armiger, something that helped him stim when he became too restless.

 

“Would you believe I’ve no intention of either? Don’t be so arrogant to think you’re the only one who doesn’t enjoy these...gatherings,” Ravus quipped tersely, barely inclining his head towards Caligo and some of his other men making gregarious conversation over Scotch. Were they any rowdier and wore anything less than suits in some hole in the wall, one would think them men of the outback. So, he could see what Ravus meant.

 

Noctis seemed to relax a little, but that wasn’t going to make him chummy. “So, what’s the big game plan? You got your blazer bugged so you can catch me in the act of revealing some sensitive info in my mildly inebriated state?” Noctis said sardonically, taking the fluted glass and sipping carefully from it.

 

“Surprisingly, no. Had I had the belief you were anything but a half-wit entrusted with such information, perhaps I may have.”

 

Noctis snorted. “No offense, but you’d make a crappy secret agent. You never were that subtle, even when we were kids.”

 

Ravus raised a brow and regarded Noctis plainly. “I’ve never indicated aspirations of such. Your imagination is too overactive, Noctis.”

 

“Versus being a total stick up the ass?” he chirped back, smirking cockily. Alcohol really was liquid courage. Were it in any other situation, he imagined Ravus would verbally skewer him.

 

“I see you’ve been graced with a gift for a crass tongue,” Ravus replied drolly, crossing his legs and arms and leaning back as much as he was willing without compromising his own ineffably elegant carriage.

 

They were silent for a long moment before Noctis broke it, expression appearing thoughtful and pensive, if difficultly read in the low lighting of the sole candle that staved away some of the night. “You want to stick around? Since you like nitpicking me so much, any idea why people stare at me so damn much?”

 

Both of Ravus’ brows raised at this. “Noctis, how much of a dolt are you, truly? I don’t live day to day in your life. Your guesses are likely more educated than my own.”

 

Noctis waved his hand, as if clearing the air of his flawed question. “Okay, context: I get stared at. A lot. Like, a lot more-than-usual lot. Gladio thinks it’s because people think my hair is weird. Prompto thinks it’s because of my limp, and Iggy thinks it’s just because people recognize my black clothing, AKA being part of the royal family. But, I think don’t think it’s that.”

 

Ravus seemed interested, if only because he relished in picking apart reasons for Noctis’ impotency as the Chosen. Noctis wasn’t blind to that fact. Folding his arms thoughtfully, his unnervingly sharp gaze honed into Noctis. “Would it ever occur to you that the reason behind their staring could be your attractiveness, Noctis?”

 

Noctis blinked before he reared forwards and shot the older man an incredulous look. “Attractive? _You_? Think I’m…?”

 

Realizing he’d been hoisted by his own petard, Ravus returned on the defensive. He scowled irritably. “Perhaps if you deflated your enormous some, you’d realize I was merely being objective and adding another possibility to your quandary, you insufferable idiot,” Ravus snapped with a snarl, even if it didn’t have Noctis feeling burned by Ravus’ logic.

 

If anything, it made his grin border on shit-eating. Ravus usually didn’t bristle without reason. “Mhm, sure. Or, it could just be you think I’m hot,” he wheedled harder, receiving a hard, irate glower from Ravus before the telltale screech of chair legs denoted he was fast on his way to stalking angrily away.

 

“I kid, I kid! Yeesh, lighten up a little,” Noctis placated with open palms, resisting the urge to roll his eyes and likely enrage Ravus further. The man was the epitome of a lack of chill. When it seemed as though the older man wasn’t going to sweep himself away in a storm, Ravus sighed in exasperation.

 

“Tell me, Noctis: do you have the faintest idea as how a prince is supposed to conduct himself? An unwed one at that?” Ravus asked suddenly, leaning back again. Of course he’d be content to stay now. Any chance at lecturing the hell out of Noctis was one he savored.

 

Noctis looked at him quizzically. “Uh, sure. Lay low, don’t draw a lot of attention to yourself? Wave to the crowd, kiss babies?” When Ravus only lifted a brow, it became crystal clear what he meant. “Oh, you mean— Uh, well… Keep relationships under wraps, use, uh—condoms.” Fucking Six this was awkward. “Don’t cause scandals. Don’t go anywhere mega public or else the paparazzi won’t ever let you live it down. Else the one you’re with would probably get death threats.”

 

“I take it you know this from experience?”

 

“Eh, not really,” Noctis shrugged nonchalantly. “But Gladio’s got a ton of horror stories. Like, a lot a-lot. Allegorical, and all that.” The prince himself rubbed the back of his head. “I, uh, tend not to be super public with my...stuff.” Nevermind he’d dated Nyx on and off lately, had experimented a bit with Crowe, and even Ignis had taken his first kiss after Noctis had passed that threshold when you realized your closest friend was actually really hot. He’d learned that confining it behind palace walls minimized risk, especially if it was just fooling around and nothing more.

 

He wondered if his childhood crush on Luna counted, even if it never progressed beyond holding hands. He guessed it could, but it felt more like a cause of celebration would the wider world have known. Their notebook correspondence could count, and she was becoming very pretty…

 

At the sight of Ravus’ continuously unimpressed expression, Noctis shot him a glare. “What?” he snapped, trying to break whatever stupor the other appeared to be in.

 

“And…further. What of that?” Ravus pushed, loosing his arms some.

 

This time, an embarrassed flush crept on Noctis’ face and it was his turn to scowl, thankful the low light didn’t betray him as much as it could’ve. “I’m careful, alright? I’ve got an... _apartment_ in the city. Easy to sneak in and out, ‘specially since...y’know. Sometimes the ones who are in charge of its security… Let’s just—leave it at that,” Noctis tapered off with what could’ve appeared to be a pout, were he not careful.

 

Of course, Ravus looked infuriatingly impassive. Wasn’t be supposed to gloat like the morality police he was? “Your father is having you live in an apartment as if you’re not the crown prince of Lucis. How predictable.” Well, guess he didn’t have to wait long. “It’s almost as if he wants Lucis to fall. I trust you’ve never questioned it.”

 

This caused Noctis’ features to harden considerably. “I don’t get him,” he admitted quietly, insecurely. “I just… It’s like he doesn’t trust me. Sure, maybe the independence is nice, but—what if something happens and I’m not there? I can’t… I wouldn’t be ready. I’m not an idiot. It’s like I’m not meant to ascend the throne. Like he thinks I’m some big idiot.”

 

“I suppose that would make two of us,” Ravus replied dourly, causing Noctis to bristle and rear up. He was sorely tempted to take what remained of his champagne and dash it across the man’s infuriatingly smug countenance.

 

“As if you wouldn’t know what that’s like,” Noctis seethed at him. “Don’t act all high mighty when you ceased being a prince twelve years ago!” He smote his fist on the table, the pair fortunate no one else was around.

 

Ravus’ gaze remained trained ahead before flicking at Noctis with a deadly hone, the sort no one sane would want to be caught in the cross hairs of. “My sister also shares that fate, you idiot,” he snapped brusquely, Ravus shifting to rise immediately. Insult him all you wished, but Lunafreya? No, that was the final straw. “Such a status enabled people to abuse both her and myself. Lest you forget.”

 

With that, Ravus stormed away and left Noctis to deal with the wretchedness and guilt blooming sickly within his breast.


End file.
